


Fly

by CitrusVanille



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusVanille/pseuds/CitrusVanille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot songfic. Trowa stays by the side of an injured Quatre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly

Trowa Barton sat stiffly in his chair, listening to the slow steady beep of the monitors. He hadn’t moved in hours.

Various doctors and nurses had tried to convince him to leave, if only for a short while, to sleep, or at least get something to eat, but he had refused. He was too scared of something happening in his absence. Wufei had offered to take his place, but only once, and not too forcefully. Neither Duo or Heero had said anything: they understood.

It felt like he’d been sitting by the hospital bed for years, waiting, hoping. Watching the pale face for any sign of life, praying that at any moment those eyes would open and light up for him like aquamarines in the sunlight.

Trowa wasn’t really sure what had happened. Quatre had been on a mission, and something had gone wrong. Trowa had received a distress call. Quatre was breathing hard, and it sounded like he was running. There had been shouting, gunshots, and an explosion, and then silence.

Trowa, panicking, had traced the signal. He found the other pilot unconscious and half buried under the debris of a destroyed building – what looked like the remains of a hangar. He’d dug him out, and brought him to the emergency room of the nearest hospital. The doctors had operated, and Trowa had called the others.

The four of them had waited in silence, jumping every time a door opened.

At long last, a doctor had come to speak to them.

Quatre was stable, he’d said, but had not woken up. It was uncertain if he would. Besides the injuries sustained from the results of the explosion, he’d suffered several bullet wounds.

When they had been allowed in to see him, they could see the bruises and scratches that covered his face and arms, the burn-marks on his hands, and the singed blond hair. Wufei had been in shock, Duo had had tears streaming silently down his face, and even Heero had looked severely shaken. As for himself, Trowa had felt almost physically ill, he didn’t know what to do.

Even now, as he sat alone in the room, he could feel a fist clenching around his heart. His eyes burned, and he could feel his throat constricting, but he couldn’t cry. He was terrified that Quatre would never wake up.

He reached out and carefully cradled one of the clammy, bandaged hands between his own two.

“Come on, angel,” he whispered, voice choked. “Come on. You can do it. You can pull through. We’ve been through so much. You can’t let something like this…” he couldn’t finish.

He brushed a wisp of hair off the Arabian boy’s forehead.

“Trowa?” the soft voice made the green-eyed boy look towards the door.

“Heero.” Trowa acknowledged, wondering when the other boy had come in.

“I’m taking Duo back to the safehouse,” the Japanese boy explained, keeping his voice down. “He fell asleep. Wufei’s still here. And Relena came. They’ll stay in the waiting area, unless you want them in here.”

“No,” Trowa shook his head. “I want to be alone with him.”

Heero nodded in understanding. “Duo and I’ll be back in the morning.”

Then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him.

Trowa turned back to the still boy on the bed before him. “Please, Cat,” he whispered, then bit his lip, and squeezed his eyes shut. If he cried, it meant he’d given up, and he wouldn’t give up on Quatre. Ever. Quatre had never given up on him, and he refused to lose hope. It would be okay. Quatre would wake up. He would be full of energy and sparkling with laughter. Those motionless fingers would dance once more across the delicate ivory keys of a piano and ply a bow over the strings of a violin. And when the war was over… when the war was over… Trowa didn’t know what would happen. But he knew that they would be together, and that they would be happy.

It would all turn out all right. It would. It would. It would…

Suddenly, Trowa blinked. Sunlight was streaming through the blinds on the large window. It was morning.

 _Must have fallen asleep,_ he thought, sitting up. He’d ended up slouched over the bed, Quatre’s hand still clasped in his. He felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, and looked up at Quatre’s face.

Those incredible blue eyes stared back at him.

“ _Quatre_!” Trowa’s voice came out as a scratchy gasp.

“Tro?” Quatre sounded confused. “What happened?”

“You’re awake!” Trowa’s voice was stronger now. He launched to his feet, and pressed a fervent kiss to the other boy’s lips.

Quatre sighed, then winced.

Trowa pulled back instantly. “I’m sorry!”

“No, no…” Quatre shook his head, and winced again. “What happened?”

“Your mission,” Trowa did his best to explain. “Something must have gone wrong. You called me, and said you needed help. You must have gotten caught in the explosion.”

Memory flared in the blond’s eyes. “They saw me,” he murmured. “And started shooting. They set off the alarms, which started the searchlights, and I couldn’t get out.”

Trowa started, recalling his instructions. “The doctors!” he pressed the call button on the bedside table, still unwilling to release the other boy’s hand.

Moments later, a doctor, several nurses, Wufei, and Relena came running in. When the saw Sandrock’s pilot was awake, they all looked immensely relieved. Wufei and Relena left quickly to call Heero and Duo, and the doctor examined the injured boy. Trowa hovered nearby, and the nurses didn’t seem to have the heart to tell him to leave.

“I think he’s going to be okay,” the doctor said at last. “It’ll be a long recovery, but it’s a miracle he’s actually woken up… and so soon.” He shook his head in wonder.

“But he will recover?” Wufei had returned, along with the others.

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “There was never really any question that his body would heal. What was unclear was whether or not he would come out of the coma. He suffered a severe hit to the head, but it seems as though there was no permanent damage.” He looked like he was in awe.

A low buzzing sounded from one of the beepers on the doctor’s belt. He checked it, then looked at the standing pilots and Relena. “You should probably all let him sleep, now,” he told them. “What he really needs it rest.” Then he swept out of the room, followed by the train of nurses.

“I’m staying,” Trowa announced. He’d resumed his seat by the bed, and was once more holding Quatre’s hand.

The others exchanged a look, then left, promising they’d be just outside if they were needed.

Quatre reached across his body with his other hand to touch Trowa’s face. “You’ve been with me all this time, haven’t you?” he asked softly, caressing the boy’s cheek.

Trowa nodded. “I was so afraid that if I left, I’d lose you,” he admitted. “I couldn’t bear that.”

Quatre gave him a weak smile. “You’ll never lose me,” he replied. “We’ll always be together. You and me. We belong to each other. Forever.”

Trowa returned the smile.

After a moment, Trowa kissed the boy’s pale forehead. “You need to sleep,” he reminded him. “The doctor says you need rest.”

“Sing me to sleep?” Quatre asked. He’d discovered some time ago that the other boy had a surprisingly soothing voice, and he never tired of it.

Trowa smiled again, gently.

He stroked the blond locks for a moment, thinking, then began to sing.

_“Fly, fly little wing_  
Fly beyond imagining  
The softest cloud, the whitest dove  
Upon the wind of heaven’s love  
Past the planets and the stars  
Leave this lonely world of ours  
Escape the sorrow and the pain  
And fly again.” 

Quatre was smiling. “It’s beautiful, Tro.”

_“Fly, fly precious one_  
Your endless journey has begun  
Take your gentle happiness  
Far too beautiful for this  
Cross over to the other shore  
There is peace forevermore  
But hold this mem’ry bittersweet  
Until we meet.” 

“Don’t stop,” Quatre whispered, voice drowsy.

Trowa kissed his forehead again, and continued.

_“Fly, fly do not fear_  
Don’t waste a breath, don’t shed a tear  
Your heart is pure, your soul is free  
Be on your way, don’t wait for me  
Above the universe you’ll climb  
On beyond the hands of time  
The moon will rise, the sun will set  
But I won’t forget.” 

“Stay with me,” Quatre murmured, almost asleep now.

“Always,” Trowa replied.

“Keeping singing,” Quatre’s eyes were closed now. “Love your voice. Love you.”

 _“Fly, fly little wing_  
Fly where only angels sing  
Fly away, the time is right  
Go now, find the light.”

Quatre’s breathing had evened out. He was fast asleep.

Trowa gazed at the boy before him, feeling tears forming again in his eyes. His angel was safe. And this time, he let the tears come.


End file.
